I recently went through the blog I kept during the two years I lived in Seoul, and I was struck by how lucky I am to have this time capsule of my time there. At the time, I knew I wanted to blog about Korea, and that I would someday be grateful that I took the time to try and document my life there. While I wasn't always the most faithful blogger, or the most creative, I did my best and as I went through my blog today I felt so happy that I had tried to capture my experiences there.
There were things that happened to me, or that I was a part of, that I had completely forgotten about. Little details, exchanges, that my brain had let slip through the cracks were all there. I found the videos I shot giving tours of my apartments, and suddenly those places were not longer just memories for me, but I was there, present in the moment and everything was exactly the way it was when I lived there.
That is such a special and wonderful thing to be able to do. I didn't realize just how much it would mean to me to have that blog to remind me, not only of the people and places I met and visited, but also of the person I used to be.
This blogging thing, it's not so bad.
And for the curious, my blog from Korea is heartmindnseoul.tumblr.com
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Friday, September 20, 2013
Habemus Papam: On Pope Francis
I don't often bring my religious views into my blog posts, for reasons that I won't get into here, but I feel the need to share my thoughts on the newest Holy Father of the Catholic Church.
I should start off by saying that I am a practicing Catholic. Mostly practicing. I say that because there was a time in my life where I was more devout than I am now. Bi-monthly Reconciliation; weekly, sometimes daily, Mass; I was active in Bible study, small groups, volunteer projects, and YA ministry. I even toyed with the idea of entering religious life on a full-time basis, as a nun.
And while I no longer hold aspirations of one day adorning my head with a habit, and even as I struggle with my Faith more now than ever before, the Holy See and the Pope still play important roles in my life.
I know a lot of people, non-Catholic and Catholic alike, question the relationship between laypeople and the Pope. Yes, the sitting Pope is the leader of the Catholic church, we look to him for guidance, inspiration, and example. But what else? What more? I can't speak for everyone, because I think relationships, no matter what kind, remain fundamentally personal. And for sure the way I see and feel about popes is different from the way I view other positions of power, and the people who hold those positions. Say, POTUS. While I may feel a tentative allegiance to the president, it's not a relationship that is more than superficial. It is not at all personal.
It may come as a surprise to some that I can say clearly that I loved Pope John Paul II. I felt his passing away keenly, grieving and crying for days on end. I was 20 years old when he died, and I had never known another pope, had grown up with him my whole life, and I saw and felt him to be so much a tangible part of my life. Even now, I get emotional over his memory because, even though I had never met him, I knew him and had cultivated a personal relationship with him over the years. His death was real to me.
I have to say that I never really warmed to Pope Benedict XVI. I tried to get to know him, I did. I acknowledged him, certainly, but our relationship was distant. And while I wasn't pleased by the arrangement, as the years passed I was resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn't have the same relationship with Benedict that I have with John Paul II.
But now a new pope sits on the chair at St. Peter's Basilica. Pope Francis has entered into his papacy by flipping it on its head. He's been very bold. And as I've watched and read and seen him in these, his still early days, I feel so much hope and joy. Already, I feel a profound affinity with Pope Francis, and something in me, my soul perhaps, feels lighter and more at peace. It's as if I had been on my spiritual own for so long, and now, again, finally, there's someone to help me and support me. I can't adequately put in words what it means to have a spiritual confidant, a friend, at the Vatican. And this is what the popes mean to me. I already love Pope Francis--its not so much because of his earth-shattering statements or how radical he seems, although there is that. I admire and respect his humility, and am inspired by his capacity to love.
Some will criticize the papacy, as they have the right to do so, but for me, and for others, Pope Francis brings much needed relief, and I am looking forward to what he has in store for the Church.
I should start off by saying that I am a practicing Catholic. Mostly practicing. I say that because there was a time in my life where I was more devout than I am now. Bi-monthly Reconciliation; weekly, sometimes daily, Mass; I was active in Bible study, small groups, volunteer projects, and YA ministry. I even toyed with the idea of entering religious life on a full-time basis, as a nun.
And while I no longer hold aspirations of one day adorning my head with a habit, and even as I struggle with my Faith more now than ever before, the Holy See and the Pope still play important roles in my life.
I know a lot of people, non-Catholic and Catholic alike, question the relationship between laypeople and the Pope. Yes, the sitting Pope is the leader of the Catholic church, we look to him for guidance, inspiration, and example. But what else? What more? I can't speak for everyone, because I think relationships, no matter what kind, remain fundamentally personal. And for sure the way I see and feel about popes is different from the way I view other positions of power, and the people who hold those positions. Say, POTUS. While I may feel a tentative allegiance to the president, it's not a relationship that is more than superficial. It is not at all personal.
It may come as a surprise to some that I can say clearly that I loved Pope John Paul II. I felt his passing away keenly, grieving and crying for days on end. I was 20 years old when he died, and I had never known another pope, had grown up with him my whole life, and I saw and felt him to be so much a tangible part of my life. Even now, I get emotional over his memory because, even though I had never met him, I knew him and had cultivated a personal relationship with him over the years. His death was real to me.
I have to say that I never really warmed to Pope Benedict XVI. I tried to get to know him, I did. I acknowledged him, certainly, but our relationship was distant. And while I wasn't pleased by the arrangement, as the years passed I was resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn't have the same relationship with Benedict that I have with John Paul II.
But now a new pope sits on the chair at St. Peter's Basilica. Pope Francis has entered into his papacy by flipping it on its head. He's been very bold. And as I've watched and read and seen him in these, his still early days, I feel so much hope and joy. Already, I feel a profound affinity with Pope Francis, and something in me, my soul perhaps, feels lighter and more at peace. It's as if I had been on my spiritual own for so long, and now, again, finally, there's someone to help me and support me. I can't adequately put in words what it means to have a spiritual confidant, a friend, at the Vatican. And this is what the popes mean to me. I already love Pope Francis--its not so much because of his earth-shattering statements or how radical he seems, although there is that. I admire and respect his humility, and am inspired by his capacity to love.
Some will criticize the papacy, as they have the right to do so, but for me, and for others, Pope Francis brings much needed relief, and I am looking forward to what he has in store for the Church.
Friday, September 13, 2013
On Being Brave
A question that I keep coming back to in regards to my pursuit of a career in publishing is whether or not I actually want to do it. At this point in my life, I feel like I should start to cultivate something more permanent and stable. And given the loss of certain idealist mentalities, I decided that it wasn't so much the what of all but simply the act of committing that I needed to embrace. It's not the end of the world if your job or career isn't something you love, despite what people say about not ever working a day in their lives when you do the thing you love. That was, unfortunately or fortunately, the belief I carried around with me for a long time. I saw settling for something stable, secure, and expected as being a sell-out, choosing the comfortable life over the meaningful one.
But let's be real here. There is too much chance in the world, and people too complex, for life to be so black and white. A meaningful life can be made, found, created, stumbled upon in infinite and abundant ways.
And while I wish I had a single driving force and focus of my life, I acknowledge that I simply don't. I have, to my credit and despair, several interests. Books being one of them. I don't need my job to be the thing that defines me. Because it doesn't. It is a means or even a part, of what I hope will be a small, but meaningful life.
But I still can't help but wonder if I'm romanticizing publishing. I love to read. Books are incredibly important to me and the life I lead. And so I can't help but wonder if I actually want to get into publishing, or if its something I think is logical for me, or if I just think it would be super awesome to work in publishing. The reason I keep coming back to this question is because I still don't know that much about the book world, and don't read as much as I should, and how can I dedicate myself so wholeheartedly to publishing when I don't know what's its about. I can't really see myself working up the ladder, mingling and networking, to be successful in the book world. I can't envision going to work everyday at a publishing house.
Do I do it because I love it, or because I haven't been brave?
Some people might call what I've done by coming out here as being brave. But it's not bravery, it's foolishness. Going all in on something is hardly new to me. A good friend kindly pointed out to me several years ago that once I get an idea in my head, I'm stubborn enough to not let go of it and to throw myself into whatever it is. At whatever cost.
Being brave would entail something else entirely. It would entail, I would think, not feeling like a fraud all of the time. It would entail diving into something you know you could do for years on end, something you could envision yourself doing. It would entail not doubting yourself and not caring about not having all of the skills necessary because, damn it, this is IT for you.
That's what I think, at least.
And it seems like I haven't let go of my idealist ways after all.
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